


The First Kiss

by HRT



Category: Gravitation
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Boys' Love, Coming Out, Homosexuality, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-29
Updated: 2005-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HRT/pseuds/HRT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of the first meeting between Tatsuha and Ryuichi, and their first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is not related to any of my other stories. Since most Tatsuha-Ryuichi stories are written from Tatsuha's point of view, I wanted to try doing one from Ryuichi's. Oddball story note: The First Kiss was written while listening to repeated spins of the album Against Perfection by the band Adorable, the only time I've ever listened to music while writing.

There was a time when I didn't know about him. I find that impossible to imagine, now.

* * *

I'm twenty-seven years old, stepping out of a car in front of the Uesugi family temple with Tohma. We're going to dinner. Mika-san and Tohma plan to raise the subject of their marriage with Uesugi-san and Tohma's brought me along as emotional support, something I never thought he would need.

"Brace yourself," Tohma mutters over his shoulder as we enter the grounds. "My hopefully soon-to-be-in-laws are a little feisty."

A little feisty? From Tohma, this could mean hellish. Apprehensive, I bow to the large statue of the Buddha in the courtyard, as does my bandmate. Then we approach the temple. I'm not religious, but I make a silent prayer that the evening will be peaceful.

Ha.

The Buddha hates me.

I'm not clear about what happens in the next few minutes. Street shoes are exchanged for slippers, more bows are made to a confusion of new persons, some in monks' robes, others not. It's evening, and all the light is coming from a few paper lanterns. It's so dim I can barely make out faces.  I walk slowly into the dining room after Tohma, my hands on his shoulders to guide myself. I'm having horrible visions of tripping and taking down a wall, lying in a heap of shattered bamboo supports and shredded rice paper. Now we're kneeling with the family at the dinner table. The light is better here, thank the Buddha. Candles are lit as well, and I can hear wax sizzling.

Who's here? I'm terrible at remembering faces. That's why I make up names when I go blank.

The bald man in the monk's robe is our host, Uesugi-san. I recognize Mika in the pink dress, wearing a peacock brooch on her shoulder, her hair done up in a bun. She looks very formal, very businesslike. Both Tohma and I are in suits. I didn't even remember I owned one until Tohma dug it out of my closet. Mika's expression is strained, as if she's about to explode.

They've put me right next to a boy in a monk's robe and I can't see him very well. I pay no attention to him since I'm worried about Tohma, and the boy ignores me, this miscellaneous adult. What did they say his name was? I have no clue.

Isn't there supposed to be another son? Eiri-san? I know about the New York incident. It happened almost two years ago, and Eiri's finishing his last few weeks of high school, Tohma says. The eldest son of the family seems to be late.

We're all sitting on our folded legs, heads bowed politely, waiting. Covered bowls of miso soup are being placed before us. As the servants leave, a small voice says to me conspiratorially, "Here it comes."

I glance aside. Hair and eyes so black they blend into shadow. The eyes are wincing as we lift the lids off our soup bowls.

"I MEANT WHAT I SAID! SEPPUKU! I'LL KILL MYSELF!"

"Mika," the old monk replies sharply. "Lower your voice. These walls are only paper, remember."

"I'll cut my intestines out and throw them on your bed! Is that what you want?"

The small voice whispers play-by-play again in my ear. "They started fighting right before you came. Mika told him she wanted to marry Tohma and Dad said no."

The boy sounds almost gleeful. Myself, I'm rapidly losing my appetite.

Undeterred, the old man is calmly picking cubes of silken tofu out of his soup with his chopsticks. "No," he replies. "I do not give my consent."

"Father! Tohma and I have been dating for THREE YEARS! Other fathers would have agreed a long time ago, dammit!"

Tohma speaks up. "Keep in mind, sir, that I am making a good living. I will have no problem supporting your daughter financially."

"He's RICH, father," Mika adds. "R-I-C-H. Do you know what that spells?"

"But his profession is uncertain. You know perfectly well that music groups have a short life span and are constantly falling from popularity. I am waiting to see if he gives up this nonsense and goes back to law school."

I nearly drop my chopsticks. I can't believe he said that in front of Tohma. I look at my bandmate and notice he's wearing his crisis mask. You have to know him well to recognize it. He seems unperturbed, but in reality he's upset.

Mika purples. Even in this darkness I can make out the ugly flush.

Then the young voice by my ear interrupts loudly. "Hey, Aneki. Haven't you heard of eloping? Get out of the house, already."

Mika only glares at the boy. "But I want his CONSENT."

"That's my sister," the voice whispers to me again. "She wants the whole apple and won't settle for half if she thinks she can get it. Usually, she wins."

Someone enters just then and distracts us. It's Eiri-san. He's taking off a long coat. Oddly enough he's wearing sunglasses, and I wonder how he can see in this poor light.

"Tatsuha's right. You'd save us plenty of hassle by running away with Tohma," Eiri says as he seats himself on the floor.

"Who asked you?" Mika retorts angrily.

Uesugi-san roars, "Eiri! Take those sunglasses off! You are not to wear them at dinner! It's absolutely disrespectful of you."

The young man starts on his soup, ignoring the command.

"EIRI!"

Slowly, Eiri reaches up and slides the sunglasses down, revealing a spectacular black eye. He glares at his father. Everyone falls silent. I look at Eiri's knuckles and see they have bloody scabs on them.

I feel a hand cupped around my ear. "Wow. My brother's been getting into a lot of fights recently, but it's not often some guy can get past his guard."

"How did that happen?" Uesugi-san asks in a tired voice.

"Exactly the way any black eye happens," Eiri replies coldly. Tohma meets my gaze and I know what he's thinking. He'd prefer one crisis at a time.

Tatsuha speaks again. "You know, Eiri, you really should start getting girlfriends with better tempers."

"Shut up, you little shit."

Tatsuha stage whispers, "Just another typical evening in the Uesugi household, my sister threatening to commit suicide, my brother getting into fistfights." He tugs my sleeve. "I tell people I'm the only normal member of the family and I'm not kidding."

"Father!" says Mika. "You can't be serious! It's absurd to expect Tohma to go back to law school now that he's a success with his rock band."

"You mean your creepy boyfriend is in a rock and roll group?" Tatsuha asks, sounding stunned.

The next instant, three sets of chopsticks reverse. Tohma and I duck aside as they come down on top of Tatsuha's head.

"Hey!" the boy yells, trying to protect his scalp with his forearms. "What did you do that for!?"

"Haven't you been listening for the past three years?" Mika shouts. "How can you NOT KNOW my beloved Tohma plays in a rock group?"

"God, you're retarded," Eiri adds.

"Tatsuha," Uesugi-san says in icy tones, "You need to pay better attention to what goes on in this family."

"Hey!" the boy protests again. "I knew he was a musician, but I thought he was in some boring jazz group or something. That's exactly what a hyper-controlled android like him would do. God, I'm nauseous. It's as sickening as having YOU in one, Dad."

"Listen, twerp," Tohma says, finally irritated beyond endurance. "We're called Nittle Grasper. You've met Noriko Ukai. Remember her? She plays in the band, too."

"Yeah, but I thought she was just one of Mika's friends."

"And haven't you heard of Ryuichi Sakuma?"

"Ryuichi Sakuma? Who's that? Your bongo player?"

Tatsuha snickers evilly.

I'm taken aback. The boy hasn't caught my name?

"God! You are so obnoxious," Mika hisses. "Their LEAD SINGER, Ryuichi Sakuma, is sitting right next to you!"

Tatsuha is smacked again by his father. Tohma and I are rapidly growing adept at dodging.

Miffed, I ignore the boy for the rest of the meal. Tatsuha grows very quiet, however. After a time, I feel his eyes on me. When we're finishing the last bowl of rice, I hear a faint whisper in my ear.

"Sorry."

I give a nod, refusing to look at him. I'm still pissed off.

"I was just being a smartass, you know?"

He sounds upset, and I soften. He's trying to make friends. "If you don't know our music, would you like one of our CDs?"

We're having a quiet little conversation in the corner, as Mika and Tohma twist Uesugi-san's arm. Eiri helps them from time to time. We're left alone.

The boy falters, uncertain about this generosity.

"I just want to give you a chance to learn our music. I'll give you a video, too."

Ah, the fatal words.

* * *

Continued in Chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2

I meet Tatsuha again a year later at the wedding of Tohma and Mika. I'm walking down one of the hallways of our hotel, cursing and feeling wretched.

Dammit. WHERE had I lost the ring?

Tohma wasn't going to like this. Your best man is supposed to stay on top of this ring business. Maybe they couldn't get married. I wasn't sure how Western marriage ceremonies worked. It wouldn't be a complete disaster, because the Seguchis had already wedded in a private Buddhist ceremony in the Uesugi temple, but this second, Western-style marriage was supposed to be the big media showpiece for the fans and the press. It was going to be on TV.

Crap. Why should I have to carry the ring anyway? It ought to be Tohma's job. Wasn't the best man supposed to hold off attackers with a sword or something? That blue diamond was the Seguchi family rock, too, always given to the new wife of the eldest son. Tohma was going to kill me, Mika would kill me, and the whole Seguchi clan would take out a contract on me.

So I'm practicing in a squeaky voice, _Please Mr. Yakuza-san, I really don't know what happened to it_, when someone yells from an open doorway, "Close the door, brat!"

Uh-oh. I'm right by the bridesmaids' dressing room. A young man in a formal suit is standing in the doorway, calling out, "Just ogling you chicks in a state of undress!"

Slam. The door shuts in the young man's face, shoving him backwards.

"Ow! You're not supposed to give me a bloody nose! You want me to bleed all through the ceremony?" The young man is clutching his face, red beginning to trickle through his fingers.

"Do you need a handkerchief?" I ask.

"That's okay, I've got my own." He fishes this out and plugs his nose with it in a rather grotesque manner. Then he looks at me again.

"Oh my God," he says slowly, swaying.

Blood loss? Is he going to faint? I grab his arm to steady him.

He blinks at me, the stained handkerchief dangling out of his nose. He looks so funny that I laugh.

His eyes begin to fill with tears.

Did he break his nose? I stop laughing. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No!" he shouts, ducking his head. "I just need my goddamned dignity!"

He runs off down the hallway and yanks open the door to the stairwell. His footfalls make the whole stairwell ring.

I pause, trying to remember his face. Two black eyes, black hair cut a little long. Handkerchief dangling out of nose. No, not familiar to me. His voice was young. Early teens, then? But he looked older.

I shake my head. I have a ring to rescue.

An hour later, K finds it. Kumagoro is wearing it around one of his ears. I'd forgotten I'd been trying to make him an earring so he'd look cool for the ceremony. Humph. It looks better on Kuma than Mika, anyway.

* * *

Nittle Grasper plays for the reception and that too, is televised. After we're done, I stop by Noriko's synth to tell her she looks wonderful in that tiny black dress.

"If it were any smaller it could be Saki's diaper," Noriko replies. "By the way, you need to do something about that kid. He's been bawling for the last two hours."

"Kid?" I'm bewildered. "Bawling?"

"Tatsuha," Noriko adds. "He was mortified when you saw him with that handkerchief up his nose."

I can just barely recall the name. "Where is he?"

"In Mika's room. He's been hiding there since the ceremony."

I take my leave and go upstairs again. Tatsuha must have changed quite a bit, if he's so sensitive. He was a real brat when I first met him. I'd josh him out of his funk.

I open the door to Mika's room. Empty. The bridesmaids are all dancing downstairs.

"Tatsuha?" I ask.

A slight bump, followed by a gasp. Someone mutters, "Shit!"

The voice is close by but I can see nothing. Then I look under one of the tables. There he is, wedged underneath with his knees drawn up.

"Come on out," I urge.

"No!"

I see bloodshot eyes through his hair. He's been crying, all right. I move the lamp aside, then lift the entire table off of him.

His eyes skitter wildly from side to side as if he's about to bolt. How old is he?  He seems so young. I take his arms and lift him up. And for the first time, I get a good look at his face. Yes, he's red-eyed and blotchy, and he's--

I--I've never seen this before, I--

I've never seen Tatsuha clearly in good light.

He's beautiful.

He's REALLY beautiful.

Oh, GOD, NO.

* * *

Continued in Chapter 3.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next ten minutes, I become a complete fake.

"Don't cry because I laughed at you." My arm goes around his shoulders as I escort him from the room. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Here, let's go downstairs and join the reception and have some of that orange ice cream punch."

My mind is working like a machine gun, processing information. He's breathing like he's been running, eyeing me with apprehension. His head's a little shorter than mine, but he'll probably be taller when he grows up. How old is he, dammit? Fifteen or so?

He turns his head and his warm hair flicks my cheek. Instantly, a nervous flutter goes through my stomach. I feel a heartbeat inside my trousers, a pushing, swelling ache against the cloth. He looks so good in that suit. Good enough to--

NO. Not that, Ryuichi. You will have no Michael Jackson thoughts. He's far too young and barely knows what a girlfriend is, much less a boyfriend. A boyfriend would scare him to death.

I babble. I tell him the story of Kumagoro's earring and the Yakuza, and the boy begins to relax against my body. I love the feeling. Now he's watching me as we ride the elevator down. His vivid dark eyes are really wonderful to study, and I'm holding him so close I have an excellent view. Somehow, he's shifted so he's completely inside my arms. I'm embracing him. His upturned face is scarcely an inch away. He's starting to smile, and it's a very sweet expression.

The elevator doors open. Lights flash. Instantly, my arms drop. Tatsuha looks surprised and hurt, then he understands. We're facing those damned photographers. But I was quick enough that they caught nothing. I smile and wave to them. Then I usher Tatsuha through the crowd and back into the reception hall. There, I tell him to wait at an empty table while I bring us some punch. As I leave, I can feel his gaze following me around the room.

I return and we toast each other with the slushy orange beverage. His eyes never leave mine as we knock our silver mugs together and toss the punch back. Noriko joins us, and for a second, I resent her presence.

A very bad sign. She's just checking on him and I'm already jealous. My subterranean ache has grown worse. I try to will myself back into a normal state. Ice. Ice cold, right down there, deadness, numbness--

"How about some wedding cake?" Noriko asks. "I haven't had a slice, yet."

"I'll get some," I reply hurriedly. My methods are not working. The sight of the boy is too much and I need to escape from him long enough to settle down.

As I return with the trio of cake plates balanced along my arms, Tatsuha blows me a kiss, and winks.

WHAT THE HELL?

I drop the plates.

* * *

A few minutes later, after the worst of the frosting has been cleaned off my shoes and pants by Noriko and the waiters have swept up most of the crumbs, I make another attempt for more cake. At least my below-the-belt problem has been cured.

But right now I'm so upset, I can't face Tatsuha.

Near the drinks table I come across Eiri, and pause. I need an answer to a question. Eiri looks very punk, his hair in his eyes, a cigarette poking through the strands. He's watching the dancing with sullenness.

"Do you happen to know if your brother is a Grasper fan?" I ask. It's hard to sound innocent. "I was wondering if he'd appreciate a poster or two."

"Tatsuha the fuckhead?" the writer replies crisply. "Hell, he'd give you a blowjob in gratitude. The little pervert's your biggest fan."

I think I hate older brothers.

I leave him. Now that I know Tatsuha's feelings are no joke, it takes all my courage to return with more cake. Noriko makes small talk, bless her.

Tatsuha's very different now. He's turned completely red and his eyes are scared. He's just told me in his graphic way that he loves me, and he's terrified about my reaction.

I'm staring at him, he's staring at me. We fork up pieces of cake. We keep glancing away from each other and looking again. Neither of us are smiling. I've never felt so grim. Noriko's voice wavers. Just then I hear Saki squalling for her mother and Noriko excuses herself, after giving us a funny look.

"Let's go up to your room," I say. I'm polite, but the words are not a suggestion. They're a command.  We rise and take the elevator up. This time, I keep my hands to myself.

"You're sharing with your brother?" I ask.

He nods, his face anxious. He's studying me, trying to read my expression.

We say little until we're inside the room. Once there, Tatsuha faces the wall and gives a little shudder. I know he's crying again. He's expecting disaster.

"What's the matter?" I say softly.

I swear he almost sucks the tears backwards. With two sweeps of his hands, his face is dry, his expression smoothed over and cool.

"Nothing," he says. "Why do you ask?"

I remember being that age.

"I was wondering if you need my help."

"Well, I could use some advice," he replies.

"Ask away."

"How do you kiss a guy?"

What? He looks so calm he might have just asked me about the weather. I'm the one who's embarrassed.

"The same way you kiss a girl," I reply, "with love."

He squirms. "No, I mean the practical stuff. You know, lip mashing. You see," he says in a rush, "there's this guy I want to ask out on a date and I don't want to embarrass myself!"

My throat goes completely dry. Great Buddha. Boys his age never talked like that in MY day.

"Do you know if the other person likes men? You always need to find that out, first."

He watches me closely, then studies the floor. "Do you know any gay men?" he asks, his voice low.

"Yes," I reply. I want to add more, but I can't. I'm twenty-eight and famous, and I can't tell this boy everything.

"And you're--still friends with them?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yes."

This seems to reassure him. He gives me a shrewd look, like an urchin casing the candy counter for a grab just as the shopkeeper is about to turn away. His face is so transparent.

"Could you teach me how to kiss?"

I can't believe his boldness. I want to laugh. Then I want to put my head in my hands and groan. He's doing this because he's got a crush. I am a responsible man. I do not take advantage of boys with crushes. Children with crushes.

"Your family would kill us if they caught us," I say.

"They're out of the way downstairs," he retorts. "You can teach me. C'mon! Let's do it, quick! It's not any big deal."

I look at the ceiling in exasperation. Neither of us believes this.  He's treating me as if I'm the terrified little virgin who needs reassurance, and he's the rake. Well, he's certainly on the path of becoming one, considering his years.

"You've forgotten your age--and mine."

"No, having SEX would be immoral," he insists. "But a kiss isn't sex! I don't even know how to kiss! Please, you've got to help me."

I'm growing annoyed. He's behaving like a brat, and I want to shut him up. So I grab his shoulders. I'm about to--

He flinches backwards in my arms, but my grip tightens to hold him still. The ache has returned with insane force. At this point, my sexual hunger is so strong that all I have to do is lean forwards, brush myself against him, and I'll explode. The temptation is unbearable. Vaguely, I register the alarm in his eyes at my strange expression. I pull our bodies together, bending over his face--

I let go, and turn around.

Stupid Ryuichi. You almost let him manipulate you. And his own scheming is beginning to frighten him as well.

"Would you like some posters? I have a few in my car." I'm the polite visitor again, bland and harmless.

He makes a surprised, inarticulate noise. I suppose fishermen sound the same when their line breaks.

I don't wait for a reply. I step out into the hallway and head downstairs to the parking level. When I return, I have five cardboard tubes in the crook of my arm.

His eyes are soft with longing, his mouth about to speak.

I interrupt. "This is from our latest shoot. Tohma's probably wasted on you, so he's just in the group photo." I drop all the tubes on the bed, pop the plastic stopper out of one, and talk solid.  "I've brought you a pair of Noriko posters. You'll love these. One's a stage shot showing her behind her keyboard and the other has her singing backup during our latest recording session."

Tatsuha's mouth is moving silently. His lips frame the words, NO, NO. He's not even looking at the posters as I struggle to slide them from the tubes.

"The leather jacket she's wearing is a loaner from me. She's always borrowing my clothes." I force a laugh. "I'll sometimes steal hers in revenge and wear them on stage just to poke fun at--"

I break off. Tatsuha is staring at me, hauntingly.

Stupid Ryuichi. Stupid, stupid Ryuichi. You've just admitted the symbols of gender don't matter. And if they don't matter, then little else about gender does, either.

One last barrier exists. Age. It's still firm.

I remove another plastic stopper. "This is our latest group photo." I slide it out, and falter. I've forgotten the session completely. I'm standing in front of Tohma and Noriko, whirling a microphone like a lasso above our heads. And I'm wearing Noriko's frilly white blouse.

Gah.

I look gay. VERY gay. Except for the expression on my face. It's much too aggressive, as if my services include whipping the clients. DOUBLE Gah.

I can't believe I'm showing this to Tatsuha. Quickly, I roll it up and move onto the next tube, pulling the poster out so hard I wrinkle it permanently.

"And this one--" I give the poster a shake to unroll it.

OH, NO.

Kill me, for I am a fool with no memory.  It's the infamous 'hump Tohma,' shot.

He's sitting on his piano bench and I've shoved him back against the keyboard. My legs have swung between both of his and the camera has caught my hips in a brief moment of crude and sweaty rocking against Tohma's crotch. My shirt is dangling open in his face, and my singing mouth is harrying him like prey.

I'm too stupefied to move.

Tatsuha giggles. "I can't believe you did that to my fatheaded brother-in-law."

I can't believe it, either. I drop the poster. Then I land on the boy's bed, sprawling across the hard cardboard tubes. My face is in my arms.  Fuck.

"Sakuma-san?"

Go away, Tatsuha.

"Are you okay?"

No.

Tatsuha's voice is shaking. He may be old for his age, but he's still too young to understand an adult crisis.

"Do--do you need me to get you something?"

Just return the last five hours, please. I want my sanity back. And my soul, too, come to think of it. The worthless thing has some value to me.  I roll over. The damned poster tubes are digging into me. "No, I'm fine," I lie.

Suddenly, I'm forthright. "Never have a love affair with a grownup, Tatsuha. It's too much to handle at your age. Adults are terrifying. Hell, they can be terrifying to deal with even when YOU'RE an adult."

He frowns. "So, I have to wait until I'm a grownup, huh?"

"Yes."

Then he grins. "So you'll wait, too?"

WHAT?

I sit up. I can say things, like, what the hell are you talking about, or have a nice day and you're welcome for the posters, or any other nonsense.

But I can't say anything.

He's crouching next to me, his shoulder against mine. Then he takes a quick breath and dips his head before I can react. His mouth brushes mine, and our lips catch lightly, then release.

I'm paralyzed. I didn't--move? I swear to the Buddha I DID NOT move. I DID NOT KISS HIM BACK in that instant.

But--I'm not certain.

"I did it! I did it!" Tatsuha screams. He throws himself down and rolls along the floor, hugging himself and laughing maniacally. "I kissed him!"

He looks like he's just won a video game. Pure, childish glee. As for me, the twenty-eight-year-old man? I'm just staring like an idiot.

I have to regain control. I stand up, and Tatsuha strikes out, latching onto my ankle like a python. "You'll wait, won't you?" he blurts, begging.

I bend down. "How old are you?" I whisper.

"I'm--" He starts to lie.

My face is stern.

"--thirteen," he gasps, and lets go of my ankle. His head thumps the floor in misery.

"Three years is a long time," I say. "But didn't Tohma and Mika wait that long?"

He flips over onto his back, gaping. I kneel, and gently brush the hair out of his eyes.

* * *

So that was our first kiss.

I'm sorry, Tatsuha, that our first date will have to be so much later.

Until then.

* * *

The End.


End file.
